Unspoken
by soavezefiretto
Summary: Series of Dogget POV's during "Essence", plus a conversation with Reyes after "Existence". How do they perceive the relationship between Mulder and Scully, how is it affecting them? Please r&r.


Disclaimer: I don't own them. I know that. Am fully conscious, ok?

Summary: Just a series of Doggett-POVs on "Essence", plus an added scene with Monica after "Existence". M/S, some implied D/S, R/D

A/N: Basically I wrote this because I like the kitchen scene in "Essence" so much, the one where Mulder says to Scully she has "manos de piedra". And I Iike John. I like him so much I want to know what he's thinking. So there, here it is.

Review: This is not betaed, and English is not my native language. I like reviews, constructive criticism, and even destructive criticism. Just tell me what it did for you, if it did anything at all.

Unspoken  
by  
soavezefiretto

_Where are we parked_

"You need to have someone look at that."

"Scully can do it. It's only a scratch."

"You sure?" Then why are your knees so weak that you need to lean on me to walk? Immediately, John scolded himself for that thought. This man had come back from being dead and moldy just a couple of weeks ago. Wasn't that enough to make a guy's knees wobbly?

"Yeah. Where are we parked?"

"Right over there."

Maybe Mulder had picked up on John's thoughts, because he straightened himself up and started walking towards the car a few paces ahead of him. John was relieved he didn't have to touch him anymore, and that irritated him. Being around Mulder usually irritated him. He didn't know what to make of him. He felt –disoriented, to say the least. And John Doggett _hated_ feeling disoriented.

_Manos de piedra_

John watched silently while Dana swabbed Mulder's forehead and placed band-aid on the wound, while Mulder muttered under his breath and went "ow!" and "ouch!" and wiggled in his chair. It was a small game for them, there was amusement and regret in their eyes. How often had they sat in this kitchen, or somewhere else, tending to each other's wounds, frightened because of what had caused the wounds, exhilarated to be still alive and together, yet showing only slight amusement, moderate concern. He felt as if he shouldn't be seeing this, as if he were peeking into the neighbor's kitchen or backyard. This was private.

And then, of course, there was this thing about Billy Miles being an alien. John tried to concentrate. He felt like he'd had this argument a thousand times since Mulder had – come back. And it had only been, what, three weeks, a month? Most of all, John wanted to feel amusement at how easy it was for him to talk about such things: do aliens bleed green or red? Not so long ago, he would have left the room where such issues where discussed. Nothing personal, just not interested. Who would recognize him?

But amusement failed to touch him. This was not funny, not even remotely. John was tired, very tired.

He caught a glance of Dana, flickering between the two of them, and struggled to at least nominally understand what Mulder was saying:

"… who miraculously returns to so-called health when his body sheds its skin."

Mulder got a glass from a cupboard and filled it with water from the tap. John was sure no one had noticed how that made him flinch inwardly, and took some pride in that. He searched for signs of distress on Mulder's face. "Hideous procedures", "miraculous return". No involuntary shudder, no cloud over his eyes, no hesitation in his words. He could as well have been talking about the weather. Irritation welled up in him again. He wanted to take Mulder and shake him violently. Can't you see how it's affecting _her_? How she has to sit down, how her heart starts to beat faster at the mere thought of it? Won't you show a tiny bit of concern for her, at least? Put a hand on her shoulder, smile at her? I know I would. If I were you, I would…

Not good. Don't go there. Don't go to the land of "if I could, if I would." Those were idle thoughts when Mulder was not here, and now they were _dangerous_ thoughts. Dangerous for all of them. There was a delicate balance here, between the three of them, a very strange balance whose nature John didn't fully understand. But it was working, at least for the time being, and that was the important thing. It would be vital in the days, perhaps even hours to come.

"And what were _you_ doing there – Mulder?"

"Looking for answers."

Now it was there. The look John was searching for in vain on Mulder's face as they were discussing his own ordeal, now it was there. Fixed on her, warm, intense, almost – apologizing? Apologizing for what? For not being there for her? For getting her pregnant? For getting her so deeply involved into the X-Files that her pregnancy, the one thing she desired most, was turned into a nightmare?

"I just need to know that this baby of yours is gonna be all right."

John didn't know if he should laugh out loud or knock Mulder over the head, hard. Knock both of them, actually. Maybe knock some sense into them. "My baby, your baby" – both were thinking "our baby, our baby, our CHILD", they were thinking it so intensely, with such fear and joy, they were all but screaming it all over the place, it was like a damn blinking signal pulsating over their heads. Why was anyone even pretending not to know where Scully's child came from?

John turned his head, exasperated. This he couldn't understand, this relationship. Such deep love, clear and pure, for anyone to see, and yet so many silences. One moment they seemed, a perfect unit, moving, thinking, breathing together, their lives and paths clearly joined – and the next moment they turn away in different directions. Can't they see what they have, how lucky they are? Can't they take what is offered them, be thankful for it? Don't they know that it won't last? It never does…

He closed his eyes and saw Luke, smiling. Luke was always there for him. John smiled back in his mind.

_FBI_

Mulder was barely controlling his panic. His face was stony, and his hands were shaking ever so slightly. John doubted anyone else had noticed. He had made a habit out of the close observation of Fox Mulder. It was the only way of getting a clue to what this man was thinking. And what this man was thinking seemed to be, in turn, the clue for almost everything else.

John just hoped Mulder would control himself long enough to let this woman Lizzy finish saying what she had to say.

"What did you do to her? Tell me what's wrong with her! Tell me what's wrong with her baby!"

Almost against his will, John felt close to Mulder. He knew what he was going through, and would have given much, much, to spare him the terror, the agony. He wouldn't wish this on his worst enemy. Mulder's more complex thought patterns were almost drowned out, he could hear nothing but this shrill voice, filling his ears, his mind, the whole world: "Your child is in danger, your child is in danger! The mother of your child is in danger! Do something, do something, DO SOMETHING!" But there was nothing he could do, nothing, because his child was lost, and his wife's eyes were cold and dead, and…

"Listen to what she's saying."

It was Mulder's good right to panic, not his. He was the one who had to keep a level head, keep his objectivity.

Ha. Objectivity. Good joke. Very good joke.

_Monica_

"Hi. I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"Actually… yes, you did."

He yawned, but immediately began to take in her face, her body language. She was slightly flushed, but there was no urgency in her voice, her eyes were clear. Didn't seem like an emergency.

"John, I'm so sorry. I didn't think, I just…

"It's ok." He smiled, yawned again. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no… well… no."

She sighed and shook her head.

"I couldn't sleep, so I got in the car and started to drive around and somehow ended up here, and I thought, you know, just see if he's up and we could, um, chat or something…"

She laughed, embarrassed, and put her hand on his arm.

"Listen, just forget about it. I didn't realize how late it was until you opened the door. I just – don't think. It's a flaw. You go back to sleep, I'll get back in my car, and I'll see you tomorrow at the office, ok?"

She had already turned to go when he called after her.

"Hey, wait a minute! That's not fair! Now I'm wide awake, and you leave? No way!"

_Kitchen_

They sat in the kitchen, and Monica put the kettle on the stove, got some mugs from a cupboard. Had he ever shown her where the teakettle and the mugs were? Had she been here this often? Or did women just know instinctively where to look for such things?

His mind was still muddled from sleep. John usually disliked that, because it slowed his reactions, put him at a disadvantage. But there was no confrontation here, just a good friend who had come over for a two a.m. chat, and he found that, after all the tension of the last days, he was enjoying it, this feeling of not quite being connected to reality.

"So, what's on your mind?"

She didn't answer, suddenly shy, and he pushed, gently.

"Why couldn't you sleep? Is it – because of Scully?"

"Yes – no… Oh John, I don't know, it's all of it! All of this: Scully's child, Mulder coming back from the dead, Billy Miles, all those _people_ that where there to see poor Scully give birth, what she had to do… God, John, she was so afraid! No woman should ever have to go through that."

"I know."

"You weren't there, John. It was – the most terrifying thing I've ever seen. I can't sleep, whenever I close my eyes I see them, just standing there, and I hear Scully screaming, and I'm – I was sure they were going to kill us, then take the baby and…"

"Hey."

He leaned forward and put a hand over hers, wiped a tear from her cheek with his other hand.

"It's over now, ok, Monica? The baby's safe, Scully is safe, it's over. And it's going to be fine."

"Is it? John, we can't fool ourselves, this is not over, not by far. Who says they are not going to come back for the baby? Or if not them, others? And who are they, and who are the others, and what is Scully's baby, where did it come from? I thought I was prepared to deal with the inexplicable, I really thought I was, but…"

"Hey, you're talking to me here, remember? Mr. I-only-believe-what-I-can-see-and-touch."

This made her laugh in spite of herself.

"Look, if there's anything I've learned working on the X-Files, it's that you don't have to believe, or even understand, to help, to protect the people you care about. That's what we've done, and that's what we'll do again if it should be necessary. I find that's a thought that usually helps me sleep after another day of being chased by green-bleeding aliens."

"You really do care for her, don't you?"

"Sure. She's been my partner for the past two years, she's put up with me…"

"That was not what I meant."

When he didn't answer, she briefly bushed his cheek with her hand.

"It's ok, you can tell me. Or not. It was just a question."

"Monica, it's… it's not what you think."

Was his mind still muddled? Did he really want to talk about this? He probably didn't, but his mouth had somehow started to speak without asking him for permission.

"It could have been."

There was no surprise on her face, there was only – her, the essence of her, Monica, who was warm and gentle and made him feel good. Safe. Protected. John's mind didn't put up much of a fight against the words coming out of his mouth.

"She's beautiful. And strong."

"She is."

"And I could have fallen for her. I thought I was – falling for her. But there was always something… something about her… that…I don't know, held me back."

"Mulder."

"Yes, but… well, it's not like they are married, right? And even now Scully hasn't told anyone who the father of the baby is."

Monica raised her eyebrow.

"Yeah, I know, I know. It's pretty obvious. But what I'm trying to say is, that wasn't what was keeping me from falling in love with her. Not the fact that there supposedly was another man in her life; she never even insinuated that Mulder and her had been –dating, or sleeping together, whatever. They were just partners, she cared for him and for his work. That's what she said. And then he was – dead, so… not really a problem."

"Hm, you've got a point there."

"It was more the way she didn't talk about him, the way she would look into the distance sometimes – I don't know exactly what it was, but I knew that I would never ever have a real chance, that she would never ever love another man."

"I know what you mean. There's this – they don't even talk to each other that much, or touch each other, but there's – there's something, some vibration, when they are in a room together. Have you noticed that?"

John took a sip of his tea. It had never bothered him when Monica talked about vibrations, intuitions, strong feelings. When it came from her, it was somehow perfectly natural. If Monica said there were vibrations, then there were vibrations, and that was that.

"What I've noticed is… oh, never mind."

"Come on John, what?"

"It just… it doesn't seem – natural. Here they are, a man and a woman who are obviously in love, who are going to have a _baby_, and still they insist on acting as if they were just good friends. After all they've been through, both of them, after all that time waiting, hoping, being miraculously reunited… and still they won't say it out loud, they won't - it's almost like they're afraid to admit it. Does this make any sense?"

Monica kept her eyes on the kitchen counter and mumbled something. When he didn't understand, she raised her voice, but not her eyes.

"Sometimes it's complicated, John."

"Yes, I know that. But isn't their life complicated enough? Besides, they have their child to think of. What is Mulder going to be, 'uncle Fox'?"

"Actually, I don't think you'll have to worry about that anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"I saw them. I saw them together, with their child. Believe me, I didn't need to hear any words to understand what they were saying to each other."

"Hey, Monica…"

"It's all right, it's nothing. I'm just tired, and so are you, and I have kept you up long enough. Good night, John."

She brushed his cheek lightly with her lips and left. She was almost running.

John put the mugs in the sink, switched out the kitchen light and went back to bed. He dreamed he was in a cage, a kind of a lion cage in a circus. Mulder was standing outside the cage, laughing and pointing at him. Luke was standing beside him, holding his hand, and saying to Mulder: "Daddy, why is the man in a cage?" Mulder answered: "He doesn't know, that's what's so funny!" And they both continued laughing and pointing at him. John screamed until he woke up, and then he lay there, in the dark, feeling the sweat and tears cool on his face, trying to remember whose name he had screamed.


End file.
